Frilly Pink Kimono
by SilverStarShine94
Summary: Worst outfit ever. DeiSaku. Crack.


**Frilly Pink Kimono.**

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_Worst outfit ever. _DeiSaku. Crack.

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* * *

Somewhere close by bombs were dropping.

Sakura knew exactly what it felt like, what it sounded like, and what it looked like from those years ago when the Akatsuki near razed Konoha to the ground. Ash and tiny flakes of debris swirled merrily in the light breeze seconds afterwards, birds squalled across the sky like black streaks of paint smeared over the horizon, human screams hit notes that almost didn't seem possible - spiralling and growing like a typhoon.

And she recognised the chakra that spread out like a grasping hand just after the blast. Knew the shape that blotted out the sinking sun for a heart stopping moment wasn't merely an overlarge bird.

Sakura flipped back the sopping hair hanging over her eyes impairing her vision and mentally crossed out her night of relaxation in this little tourist town. Droplets pouring down her cheeks, coasting over her anger twisted lips, and dripping from her chin to rejoin the springs around her as she focused herself to listen beyond the sounds of terror.

The town around her was burning already; the columns of smoke scraping the previously beautiful sunset sky like hideous black fingers. The smell was one she was fond of - burning leaves that sweetly whispered autumn - until the breeze picked up again and brought with it the unmistakeable reek of burning flesh. Clasping the rough stone edges of the hot spring, Sakura near silently lifted herself out of the water, betrayed only by the gentle trickle of water droplets.

Running, she squeezed the liquid out her hair with her hands and artfully dodged the fleeing, panicking civilians that seemed to pour from all directions suddenly. Her own state of undress hardly mattered when she was running so fast that all most people could see was a flesh coloured blur if they cared to look, but the first thing she did was make a beeline for the stalls were her clothes - and everyone else's - were left.

The ones that had been knocked over by some fear-mad fool into a pile of splintered rice paper, bamboo, wood and the odd bit of tattered fabric.. Hissing a curse, Sakura grabbed the first few pieces of clothing she could find, aware that time was short and that the culprits would most likely escape if she lingered too long. If getting to put her fist through what she was sure was an Akatsuki's face meant wearing the sheerest bright pink, lace edged summer kimono on the planet with a pair of one-size-too-large strappy sandals and too tight, fringed, gold shorts then she would do it.

It wasn't like they would even be alive long enough to laugh at her... hopefully.

Shoving down the pride which wept at the sight of these unfortunate garments, Sakura quickly pulled them on and jumped towards the direction of the loudest screams while still buckling on the unfortunate sandals. In the distance she caught the sight of long blond hair and a black and red cloak by the tallest burning building in the area - the Mayor's home. She had heard of him, of course, and knew about his atrocious gambling debts, but doubted that those could have brought an Akatsuki to the area.

Impatiently whipping the fabric, that swirled around her - a constant fire hazard - she charged towards the centre of the town with glorious burning anger fuelling her steps. Akatsuki stood for everything she hated and this particular one was long overdue having every bone in his body broken for daring to use her friend's body as a couch all those years ago, and for all the other times since she had to endure him. And for having such beautiful hair. Both Inner Sakura and Outer Sakura wholeheartedly agreed (for once) that his goregous hair was unnatural for a man.

Said man was perched cockily on the edge of the rail of the balcony wreathed with the gold and teal symbol of the Mayor - seemingly at ease with all the smoke, fumes and fire that were practically caressing the edge of his cloak. One hand was resting lightly on the rail in order to keep his balance, while the other was tangled in the dark hair of a smartly dressed young man who was struggling and grimacing.

"I'll take the entire town down if you don't fucking tell me where the bastard is!" Deidara laughed easily just as she entered hearing distance, handsome face contorting in a ridiculous grin that showed off one adorable, heinous dimple.

Lunatic criminals had no right to dimples. That was another point against him.

He didn't seem to have noticed her yet - focused as he was on pulling the boy to and fro - almost allowing him to be swallowed by the flames behind him, and then seemingly going to toss him over the edge of the balcony. Cracking her fist, Sakura drew back her arm and connected with the building with an earth shattering blow. The structure was already compromised by the raging fire and the bombs, so it seemed to crumble like a house of cards in a strong gust of wind.

Sakura looked up, triumphant, and met Deidara's single steely blue eye with her own.

Still holding her gaze, he threw the young man back into the building just as it began to cave in on itself as though he knew she would save him before chasing him down. And he was right. Another point against him. Frowning fiercely, she leapt after the boy - catching his clothing with the edges of her fingers and dragging him to herself, she cradled him to her body as though he was the damsel in distress and she the brave knight.

Depositing him at a safe distance, she quickly straightened up and scanned for Deidara's chakra.

"Who are you?" He spluttered, voice deeper than she would have expected.

"I am Haruno Sakura, a ninja of Konoha."

He wrinkled his long straight nose, "You look like a prostitute."

In the semi-shattered, heat warped mirror at her feet that had been deposited on the ground during a blast, Sakura got a wholly unpleasant close up view at how she looked.

The shorts were uncomfortable and super short, mildly reminiscent of some kind of latex fabric, and had these weird waxy fringed braids around the waist and edges. On the ends of these were cheap plastic beads in a variety of gaudy colours which repetitively slapped against her thighs as she ran, leaped and jumped.

The sandals which she had borrowed were also questionable - made of a mostly clear plastic, which had an abundance of glitter strewn through it, they exuded a kind of cheap, sticky vibe which reminded her of hot, dirty casinos with women caked in make-up and sweat, blood and alcohol stains on the carpet. Her feet slid and slipped in them - both because of what they were made of and the size.

However the kimono was the worst. The thick, glutinous icing with a cigarette butt stubbed in it, on the burnt ashes of a cake. That one persistent boil-like spot on the end of your nose the day of your big date. The cholera ridden, muddy puddle that the taxi splashes up onto you when you're wearing your brand new, super expensive, pure white dress.

It was just the wrong side of sheer in a fetching shade of hot pink that clashed oh-so-perfectly with her hair. The entire thing was layered with enough frills to clothe an army of poorly dressed bridesmaids, edged with baby pink, sparkly lace, and had coral pink laces running down the back and front to tighten the monstrosity onto the unfortunate wearer with all of the force of several boa-constrictors. And was topped off with gloriously large white roses speckled all over.

Worst outfit ever.

She cringed internally - wishing dearly for that old cliché of sinking blissfully into the earth never to be seen again - before snapping at the boy, "And you were saved by me."

He shrugged artfully, before wincing as half of the house came down behind them in a glorious flash of flame, bright and bold as a peacock feather. A moment of silence passed between them as they watched the flagpole sticking out of the top tower sink crash down like a felled tree - the flag of the town burning to a crisp in a matter of seconds. For a heartbeat, she feared that he might cry, but either he was able to control himself quickly or the ash was just getting to him.

"I must remain here to rally the town's people and I also must save my father."

Sakura nodded - conscious that Deidara was probably getting away very quickly as they stood there pointlessly talking.

"And I'll hunt down the Akatsuki who caused this, and bring your father back," she said with an air of finality, as a way of closure.

"He is in the lodge by the lake - as I told that scoundrel. I'll pay you handsomely -" he began, brushing debris from his starchy white, military style jacket.

"Don't," Sakura grumbled, cutting him off - impatient to go.

"In clothes," he finished calmly, straightening his collar," Mizusawa is renowned for its fashion."

It took every ounce of Sakura's quite considerable self control not to grab him by his perfectly tousled hair and shove him back into the burning building hard enough for his grandchildren to feel the blow.

...

The so called 'lodge' seemed like less of a lodge and more of the Mayor's personal love shack.

Pushing back the beads that decorated the doorway, Sakura almost stumbled on the shag carpeting that was almost ankle deep and presented a treacherous obstacle between herself and the room where she could definitely hear raised voices. Using the tiniest bit of chakra, she managed to navigate the shag swamp with minimal damage to both her feet and her ego. Drawing herself up to her full not-very-impressive height, Sakura pushed into the room with a confident stride.

"This is a perfectly legal transaction you are interrupting, yeah, Leaf," Deidara grumbled, completely calm, without even turning to look at her.

The Mayor was medium height, dark haired and completely average looking. The only thing betraying his age was the streaks of grey through his hair and the slight lines around his eyes as he grimaced. In his hands was clasped a bag that almost screamed "I'm full of gambling debt money." He already appeared to be ready to keel over from fear, and her appearance didn't seem to be helping. He looked torn between laughing and fainting.

Muttering an excuse, he half-scuttled out of the room and she made no move to stop him. Deidara seemed quite content to let him go now that his hands were full with what looked like quite a substantial amount of money.

"What are you even wearing, yeah?" He snorted, pointing at the monstrosity masquerading as a kimono, "Do you expect to be taken seriously wearing _that_?"

_"Shut up _and give that back," Sakura demanded, placing one hand firmly on her hips and pointing the other at the bag.

"I haven't done anything wrong," Deidara smirked, "You just wanted to see me, yeah."

Shoving his hands casually into his pockets, he walked towards her quickly and confidently. Sakura was torn between digging out a weapon and beating him physically, or continuing with the current conversation and beating him verbally. This was not, unfortunately, the first time they had had an encounter like this (Kami knows why she kept running into him everywhere; hotels, markets, assassination target's homes, Suna) and she always seemed to lose their verbal sparring matches. This was a fact she tried to keep buried as deep in the back of her mind as she could possibly manage.

"Aside from blowing up half the town you mean?" she spat, just as he drew level with her, "And I did not want to see you - I _loathe _you."

"God do you ever shut up, yeah?", he asked, voice laced with malice, "Your voice is as loud and annoying as your hair!"

Stung, she searched for a flaw in his physical appearance - which was irritatingly difficult to find. Determined to beat him this once all thoughts of weapons flew from her mind.

"Criminals shouldn't have dimples," she hissed, jabbing him in the face and leaving a livid streak of ash.

He grabbed her by her far too bright, clashing hair and kissed her so unexpectedly that she could do little other than stand there with her hands slack by her side with Inner Sakura keeled over and dribbling.

"Women in the ugliest clothes in the history of the Universe shouldn't be so damn attractive," he shot back in retort, as he drew away.

Pulling herself away, and punching him hard enough in the stomach to crack a rib she stumbled backwards, let out a string of curses and almost fell into the lit fireplace. Unfortunately, though she had escaped the flames licking at her heels, her borrowed kimono was not so lucky. The flimsy abundant fabric appeared to me more flammable than petrol.

"You'll need to take that off, yeah. Unless you want to burn to death," Deidara chocked, voice coloured with laughter.

Modesty or fiery death. Difficult decision.

"Come on, take it off." He laughed raucously, hooting like a lewd fool in a stripper club, as the flames roared up the train with alarming speed.

Only he would be this amused by her imminent death by flames. Sakura ripped off the kimono in a single move, crossed an arm over her exposed chest, and stamped on the fabric so viciously that one of the floorboards cracked. Meanwhile, Deidara looked as though Christmas had come early. When she turned to try and finish breaking every bone in his body, he threw his cloak at her so quickly she almost didn't catch it.

"It's cold outside, yeah."

"How thoughtful of you," she spat sarcastically to try and hide the fact that she was genuinely grateful.

When Sakura drew the fabric close to put it on she couldn't help but notice the fact that he had the most wonderful taste in aftershave and it really did smell far too lovely. This was simply unacceptable - she thrust it back at him with one hand as though it was a poisonous snake.

"I can't stand to wear anything you've touched."

His wide smirk suggested he knew exactly what she had been thinking and, stuffing the ill-gotten money into his pocket, he gave her his customary goodbye. "Whatever, yeah, I'll see you later."

She picked up the now smouldering kimono with a grimace of disgust. It would have to do.

"When I remove your spine from your body," Sakura grunted, viciously pulling the coral laces to keep the Kimono in place.

The end of the train was mostly charred, with several of the frills just hanging on by a few burnt threads and one sad little white rose scraping along the ground. It reeked like burnt plastic, was itchy against her skin and there was a large hole in the back, but it was still infinitely preferable to _his _cloak no matter what her Inner self said. Honest. Casting one last contemptuous look over her shoulder, Sakura launched herself in the direction of Konoha praying not to meet anyone before she got back to the sanctity of her flat.

And of course the Kami's had to mock her by having Ino sprawled on her couch watching a chick flick like she owned the place.

"Forehead...? Did you stop off in a burning _brothel_ to pick up that outfit?"

"It's trailer trash chic, Pig."

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This started off serious business for the first few paragraphs (until about para 7) before it descended into downright stupidness. I wasn't even sure I should post this crap, but it was a pretty fun palate cleanser while I was writing some actual serious business PeinSaku and ItaSakuSasu, so you get it anyway.

It's been a while since I read/written any DeiSaku, and this hit me like a brick in the face - no joke. My plot bunnies are always more rabid, flea ridden monsters than cute little floppy fluffy things. Also, describing clothing in ridiculous detail has become a recurring theme in a lot of my stuff - that's weird, man.

Thanks for reading - I hope your braincells aren't too melted by the idiocy,

Silver ~ x


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